


Not Your Hobbit

by amidtheflowers



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, Gift Fic, M/M, Rule 63, fem bilbo is a new fave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:05:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amidtheflowers/pseuds/amidtheflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where a company of 13 dwarves didn’t realize Bilbo Baggins was a woman, and weren’t particularly arsed about it when they did (except perhaps one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Hobbit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sigridhr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigridhr/gifts).



> My first hobbit fic, and a fem!bilbo at that! This fic is should be taken as the crack is claims to be. If anyone has seen the first episode of Ouran High School Host Club, you'll see where inspiration came from in regards to the dwarves in each segment. I used both bookverse and movieverse in this fic, and attempted khuzdul to my best ability (which isn't saying much).
> 
> This work is unbeta'd, so please excuse any mistakes.
> 
> For Sigridhr, to cheer up her not-so-pleasant days.

In a hole under the ground lived, as is expected in the Shire, a hobbit. It was a comfortable hole, excavated and decorated by Bungo Baggins (of whom there is little to say but much to praise), and his wife Belladonna Took named their new home as Bag End. The hole stretched endlessly and luxuriously, not enough to disgruntle a hobbit (who enjoyed a minimum required effort of walking) but just enough for a young Bilbo Baggins to find the greatest adventure in. While it puzzled Bungo why his daughter was so fond of exploring and climbing to the highest crevices of their home, Belladonna would smile indulgently and take Bilbo to the edges of the Shire some days when she exhausted her father.

 

It could be said Bilbo inherited much of her spirit from her mother’s side (she was a Took, after all), and while it wouldn’t be _un_ true, it would discredit Bilbo’s natural curiosity of the world and of the trees just past the borders, and of the hills and valleys beyond Farmer Maggot’s crop. She was an odd one, even Belladonna could acknowledge it (to Bungo’s greatest amusement and relief), and perhaps that is a prevailing reason why Gandalf the Grey, not fifty years later, chose to carve a rune on the door to Bag End.

 

But that would be getting ahead.

 

Presently, Bilbo was donning her most offensive trousers and ran a hand through her mussed hair. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and snorted heartily. “Tradition mustn’t be broken,” she said cheerfully. When the door to her house knocked, she strode quickly to the door and swung it open.

 

“Lobelia,” she smiled amiably. It took quite an effort not to react to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins’s mortified expression, and said pleasantly, “Would you like a cup of tea?”

 

“You do it on purpose, Bilbo Baggins,” Lobelia sniffed accusingly. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you at the markets! I’ve seen you presentable before, but never when I come to Bag End.”

 

“You must be confusing me with some other hobbit,” said Bilbo. Behind Lobelia, the grocer’s son was walking past. “Belben, don’t I always dress this way?”

 

Belben looked at the pair and grinned. “Every day, Miss Baggins,” and continued on his way whistling.

 

Lobelia scowled and glared at Bilbo. “When you decide to take my visit seriously, I will be at the market.” She stomped away, and a small part of Bilbo regretted not at least sharing tea with her relative (a _very_ small part, mind), but was content enough with the outcome to sit on the bench by her letterbox and smoke her pipe.

 

Truthfully, she _did_ like to wear trousers more than skirts. Her best skirts always ended up ruined whenever she would have her evening treks through the fields, and trousers washed easier than any dress she’d ever worn. She didn’t particularly care what the good folk of the Shire thought of her strange ways; as long as she had a good meal, a long hike, and a pipe in her hand, she was content.

 

A shadow fell over her, and Bilbo opened her eyes. “Good morning?”

 

-O-

 

“Fili—”

 

“—and Kili—”

 

“At your service!” they said in unison. Bilbo stared dumbstruck at the two younger dwarves to arrive at her doorstep. She was still in her robe and the lemon juice for her fish was still on her hands and _why_ were dwarves coming to her house?

 

“That’s my mother’s glory box, could you please not do that,” she blurted, cringing at the mud that now clung to the wood. But it seemed Bilbo’s voice was not heard to these people, or if it was, it was ignored for greater things (a whole pile of them were now fallen over on her doorstep and _Gandalf—_ oh she should have known he was involved), but when a tall one with long flowing hair and eyes as cold as stone turned to her after he picked himself up off the floor, the fight in her veins dwindled (not cowered, definitely not cowered).

 

“Thorin Oakenshield,” he announced. She was compelled to do a curtsy, for his very presence was the stiff and intimidating kind, the kind that had the rest of the dwarves looking upon him with a mixture of hope and apprehension. She noted, too, he did not offer his service, though she could see why.

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” she raised her chin and straightened. “Please, come inside.”

 

“So this is the hobbit,” he ignored her words and looked down at her appraisingly. “Looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

 

Well, then.

 

-O-

 

**(Fili & Kili)**

The first time Bilbo was on the receiving end of one of Thorin’s why-did-I-allow-you-on-this-quest stares was after the bit with the troll. And was it _really_ her fault? Was it not Thorin who decided to make camp so near to the trolls’ dwelling?

 

“’Skin them first’?” asked Thorin with a raised eyebrow. The other dwarves were still wriggling free of their entanglements, and Gandalf was working on getting the dwarves down from the fire spit.

 

“It was the first thing that crossed my mind,” said Bilbo, fiddling with her jacket that had troll bogeys all over it.

 

“Truly, the first? I should be flattered.”

 

“I did save your lives, you know,” Bilbo said hotly.

 

“They would not need saving had you not risked the safety of this company in the first place,” Thorin scowled.

 

Bilbo spluttered indignantly, and Fili, who had been watching the exchange warily, chose that moment to have a word in.

 

“Uncle, truly, it was not Bilbo’s fault,” he reasoned, placing a hand on Thorin’s arm. “The horses—”

 

“Are gone now, as well,” Thorin interrupted, looking pointedly at Bilbo. “Because you set them loose during a fight.”

 

Bilbo’s reply died in her throat. Ah. Yes, she did, didn’t she.

 

Thorin gave one last dark look before being pulled aside by Gandalf. Kili joined Fili and Bilbo, wearing a ‘sorry-about-that-mate’ look.

 

“Bilbo—” Fili started.

 

“Do you know if there’s a river nearby?” asked Bilbo as her hand connected yet again with the slime on her jacket, and pushing down the gag-reflex was growing harder and harder to squash. At the strange looks the brothers were giving her, Bilbo sighed. “Oh, forget about Thorin. It’s not the first time someone’s been disappointed in me,” she said cheerfully. “Now, river?”

 

“There was one passing through just behind those trees,” Kili pointed, and Fili looked at Bilbo with large eyes.

 

“Thank you,” she said and marched towards the line of trees, and soon enough she heard the gentle rush of water flowing downstream. The trees gave her a feeling of privacy and isolation, and she took a breather. It was nice to be away from the company and gather her own thoughts, even for a minute.

 

Bilbo resolved to clean the jacket, since it was the only one she had thought to pack with her. Stripping it off with a grimace, she dunked it a few times in the water and then peeled off the shirt and trousers, leaving her in an undergarment.

 

“Disgusting,” she muttered, wondering what Lobelia would have thought if she had shown up at her front door with troll bogeys down her front. She gritted her teeth and scrubbed the jacket harder into the water when she saw it was not getting off easily.

 

Kili and Fili suddenly appeared from the line of trees with identical apologetic looks. Having felt extremely guilty for putting Bilbo in a bad light with Thorin, they came to make amends.

 

“Bilbo, we’re really very—oh.”

 

Bilbo looked up, shivering against the cold in her undershirt, and frowned. “Yes?”

 

Kili was staring with his mouth open, before smiling. “So that explains the toilet breaks!”

 

-O-

 

**(Dwalin)**

“…Really shouldn’t bother, we dwarves use toilets together no matter what,” Kili said conversationally as the trio rejoined the camp. “We’ve seen our mother Dís take a dump nearly every day, didn’t we Fili?”

 

“Aye,” Fili nodded sagely. “For at least thirty years.”

 

Bilbo shook her head and smiled. “Hobbits don’t use toilets together, unless they weren’t planning on using the toilet.”

 

Fili and Kili stared, and from behind them they heard Dwalin bark out a laugh. Bilbo turned to see him coming towards her and clapped her hard on the shoulder.

 

“The game’s always the same,” he said with a glint in his eye (she supposed he was also smiling but it looked more like a growl in her eyes). Kili seemed to have caught on and gave Dwalin a teasing grin.

 

“You’d know a lot about that then, Mister Dwalin?”

 

The glint disappeared and Dwalin looked at Kili with a frown. “More than you, I’d say, if it took a river for you.”

 

Kili blanched, and Fili replied, “You’ve known all along?”

 

“I didn’t realize it was such a question,” Bilbo said irritatedly.

**-O-**

**(Bofur)**

 

Arriving at Rivendell had done wonders to the weary bones of Thorin’s company. Bilbo sighed gratefully at the plate of food placed in front of her and began to eat voraciously. She glanced at the others and was surprised when hardly any of them touched their food.

 

“What’s wrong?” she said cautiously, setting down the fork on her plate. “Is there something wrong with it?”

 

“Nothing’s wrong,” said Balin.

 

“It’s _green_ ,” Ori complained.

 

“Not enough meat,” said Dori grumpily.

 

The rest of the company grunted in agreement. Bilbo rolled her eyes, and continued to eat her meal.

 

“I suppose hobbits are accustomed to this,” Thorin commented idly. Bilbo glanced up and blinked at him.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“There _were_ a lot of vegetables and lettuce in his pantry,” Bifur agreed.

 

“But there were cheese blocks as well,” Bombur piped in. “That accounts for something.”

 

“Surely we’re not going to discuss the integrity of my pantry at a time like this,” said Bilbo with a disbelieving smile, trying very hard not to rise to the bait that Thorin, for whatever reason, was trying to throw at her.

 

“It was a very small pantry,” said Thorin.

 

“I’m a very small person,” Bilbo retorted.

 

“Sausages!” Bofur cut off Thorin’s next reply, and he smiled widely. “Remember? Fat, juicy sausages and piles of fish, cooked to perfection. Bilbo had plenty of those, didn’t he, lads?”

 

The dwarves cheered in agreement and Bilbo relaxed in her seat. Bofur glanced at her and smiled encouragingly, which Bilbo returned.

 

After the meal Bilbo tired of the company of both elves and dwarves, and elected to step outside for a moment. The moon was high in the air in its full glory, and Bilbo looked up at it in wonder. For years she had looked at the moon longingly, wondering when she would go off on her own adventure. Now that she was finally in one, she wondered if her past-self could ever fathom battling orcs or besting trolls or dining with elves.

 

“Master Bilbo,” Bofur greeted her as he joined her outside. “You know there’s a garden just through here?”

 

“There is?”

 

“Aye, I saw it as we were coming up. Thought you’d like to see it, since you go on and on about missing your garden and your plants.” Bilbo and Bofur went down the hall, and Bofur continued, “Don’t take Thorin’s words to heart. He just finds you a bit of a dead weight, is all.”

 

“Thanks,” said Bilbo dryly.

 

“But you’re our burglar! And he’ll see soon you’re one of us. Ah, here we are,” Bofur smiled as they reached the entrance to the garden. Bilbo’s breath was stolen, and she nearly ran inside.

 

“Oh!” she said delightedly. She crouched down to brush her fingers on the flowers, taking in their sweet scent. “There’s something different about them,” she noted, running her fingers on the soft petals. “They have some sort of glow to them that I’ve never seen before.”

 

“Must be the elvish way of gardening,” Bofur remarked.

 

Bilbo straightened and returned to Bofur’s side. “ _Thank you_ ,” she said emphatically, almost breathless from the amount of joy spilling in her heart. Bofur’s eyes widened as his cheeks began to turn red.

 

“Bofur?”

 

**-O-**

**(Balin, Bifur, Gloin, Oin, Nori, Ori)**

 

 

Leaving Rivendell was the worst idea. Or so Bilbo thought, as she trudged on with the dwarves in the secret of the night. She did not like leaving Gandalf behind like this, not when the path ahead was so uncertain.

 

“Where will we wait for him to catch up with us?” Bilbo asked Thorin as they marched towards a small mountain.

 

“We won’t,” said Thorin shortly.

 

“Won’t?” Bilbo repeated. “But back there you said you would!”

 

“Plans change,” Thorin said quietly, looking her sternly in the eye. “Our quest does not stop because the wizard is not with us. Our time is limited. We must move on.”

 

Bilbo wanted to protest but he already turned away from her. “We’ll set up camp here,” he announced. “Gloin, Oin, start the fire.”

 

Bilbo took a seat grumpily by the fire pit, watching Gloin start the fire. “May I try?” asked Bilbo.

 

Gloin looked up. “Have you built a fire outside before?”

 

“Once, with my mother,” she replied, and moved to kneel next to Gloin. “It’s not so different from a fireplace, though, I think.”

 

Oin snorted. “Fireplaces don’t have the wind working against them,” he laughed. “Give it a go, if you please.”

 

Bilbo took the flint and steel and struck it hard, watching the sparks shower down onto the tinder. She cupped her hand around it and blew on it gently, watching smoke start to rise. She heard cheers from Kili and Fili at her success, and Gloin looked at her kindly.

 

“That was good, laddie,” he nodded.

 

“My mother taught me many things,” she smiled wistfully. “She’d be happy to see me here in this company. She’d probably want to go herself.”

 

“My wee lad nearly tore his room apart when I said he couldn’t go,” Gloin chuckled. He dug into his pockets and withdrew a silver locket, and opened it to show her two pictures. “That there is my wife, and this is my son Gimli,” said Gloin fondly. Sighing, he closed it. “It’ll be long before I’ll get to see them again.”

 

“You will,” Bilbo said firmly. She patted him kindly on his arm. “You’ll see them soon.”

 

“Let’s not be so disheartened this early in the journey,” Kili said brightly, coming to sit beside Bilbo and Gloin. “Come, let us have a song.”

 

“Say Master Bilbo, I’ve never heard a song from you,” said Bifur.

 

“No, we haven’t! A song from the Shire, of hobbit-folk!” Bofur added, and the dwarves around them began to cheer.

 

“No, no—please, I’m not very good, and hobbit songs are nothing like dwarfish songs—”

 

“I’m afraid you have to, laddie. Now that it’s been announced, it cannot be taken back. Isn’t that right, Gloin?” asked Balin, winking when Bilbo wasn’t looking.

 

“He’s right, lad. It’s been announced. We’d have to hang you by the toes if you refuse,” Gloin said darkly.

 

“And then you’d have to sing afterward anyway,” Nori added.

 

“Yes, two songs,” Ori warned.

 

“One must be in dwarfish,” said Oin.

 

“Oh alright, alright!” Bilbo exclaimed, flustered at the tall tales they were springing up on her. “It’s a very fanciful song and I don’t remember the end, so bear with me.” Bilbo cleared her throat and opened her mouth, beginning to sing.

 

She didn’t notice the hush that fell on those who were sitting by the fire until her song ended. She looked around eagerly, her smile dropping when they stared at her in wonder and realization.

 

“I knew I should’ve sung The Hobbit’s March,” she murmured to herself.

 

**-O-**

 

**(Gollum)**

“Is it soft?...Is it _juicy_ …?”

 

“I take offense to that,” Bilbo snapped indignantly, and Gollum spluttered.

**-O-**

**(Bombur & Dori)**

Mirkwood was by far, _by far_ , the absolute worst place she had been to. Stuffing thirteen dwarves inside barrels, then holding onto the side of said barrel while coasting down a river for hours on end, was not her strong point.

 

By the time they reached the edge of Laketown Bilbo was shivering, dripping wet, and trying to bring life back to her fingers. She tried to make herself useful, but in the end she collapsed on the ground and sat by herself.

 

Thorin crouched down and looked at her carefully. “You did well, Bilbo,” he said quietly, a warmth in his voice that she hadn’t heard since she defended him against Azog and his warg, and he had hugged her tightly. Her stomach did a light jump at his concern, but she didn’t have the energy to do more than nod wearily. Thorin frowned.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked worriedly. Bilbo nodded again.

 

“M’fine,” she mumbled. “Just need a rest.”

 

“I think you need more than that,” said Thorin. She felt cold fingers press against her forehead. “Dori,” he called.

 

“What’s happened to Bilbo?” asked Dori concernedly.

 

“I think our hobbit is ill,” said Thorin as he rose to his feet.

 

“I’m not your hobbit,” Bilbo grumbled as she struggled to keep her eyes open. She felt a hand on her hair.

 

“Bombur, Dori, help him into a room,” Thorin ordered.

 

Bilbo felt two pairs of hands lift her up from the ground and drag her inside another room. “You’ll want to change into something else now, lad,” Dori suggested. Bilbo nodded hazily, and fell promptly onto the bed. She heard the other dwarves pile inside, barks of orders from Balin and she heard saw Fili and Kili stationed by her side, until the world slipped away and she fell asleep.

 

She did not remember much after that. Bilbo woke once, when Bombur and Dori were helping her with a glass of water while tucked away in bed, and heard Bombur say, “That’s a good lass.”

 

**-O-**

**(A Battle)**

“No,” Bilbo shook her head. “No, I don’t accept this. You’re _Thorin Oakenshield_. You can’t leave. You just reclaimed Erebor. You can’t go.”

 

It was the wrong things to say, she knew. But time had changed everything; it had changed _her_ , and it had changed Thorin. It was bad enough that Fili and Kili were in the tent next to Thorin’s, lying with the same fate. She could not watch Thorin go too.

 

“We just became friends,” Bilbo’s voice broke, but she fought to control herself. Her eyes burned as she held Thorin’s hand. “You just started to tolerate me again.”

 

A gurgle erupted from Thorin’s lips, something probably close to a laugh if his expression wasn’t so pained. “I am sorry. For making you think I only tolerated you. You were right to take the Arkenstone. You are…”

 

Thorin trailed, and Bilbo pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling at his still form. “Your hobbit,” she whispered, her eyes beginning to stream with tears.

 

His eyes opened weakly, and he murmured faintly, “More.”

 

He fell asleep then, and Bilbo rose with as much preservation as she could muster. She went to Fili and Kili’s tent and wept anew.

 

The flap to the tent opened, and Bilbo turned to see Tauriel standing still. Her eyes were wide but she remained motionless, looking at Kili as if she had never seen him before.

 

Bilbo scrambled to her feet and rushed towards her. “Please,” she despaired. “You healed him once. You can heal him again.”

 

“I cannot do the impossible,” Tauriel shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness.

 

“It’s not impossible! You’re an elf. You have abilities beyond fathoming. Please, I would give you anything to spare them. _Please_. You can at least try.”

 

Tauriel looked at Bilbo with a tremulous gaze, and nodded. Bilbo left the tent and barely paid attention to the activity around her, seeing flashes of Bofur and Nori, Gloin sitting near the tent, until her feet took her to Thranduil.

 

**-O-**

**(Everybody but Thorin)**

Thorin did not admit it, but he struggled when walking to the throne room inside the Lonely Mountain. Balin was at his right side and Bilbo on his left, struggling not to reach out and take his arm into hers and help him. A few months had passed since the Battle of Five Armies, and Thorin was stubborn even in death, recovering with the aid of Thranduil and Tauriel.

 

Thorin stopped in front of the throne and turned, looking at his company of dwarves with a smile. His eyes wandered to Bilbo, and his smile turned gentle. Bilbo blushed, remembering what he had propositioned her the evening before.

 

“My friends,” Thorin began. “It is not luck that has brought us here. It was not I that reclaimed our homeland. It was you, all thirteen of this company, that fought valiantly against those who wished to see us fail. Who fought even against death,” Thorin looked at Fili and Kili, who stood near his right. “And of our hobbit, who has saved more lives in this room on more occasions than I dare to remember.” Thorin looked at her searchingly, and Bilbo smiled. By her leave, he reached over and took her hand in his.

 

“You may have guessed since our departure from the goblin cave. I dared not think of it then, for we had a dragon to slay at the time…but now the time has come, and as my most loyal companions, I shall tell you first.” Thorin looked to Bilbo one last time, before smiling and shouting to the company, “There shall be two kings under the mountain. I will take Bilbo as my King!”

 

The dwarves, who were anticipating the announcement, were preparing to cheer but it died in their throats at Thorin’s words. Dwalin was scowling and Bofur looked outraged. But it was Bilbo who was most livid out of them all.

 

“Your _what?_ ” she hissed.

 

Thorin looked at her startled. “You knew this already,” he said. “We spoke of this yesterday when I asked for your hand.”

 

“Yes,” Bilbo nodded. “I thought I would be your _queen_.”

 

“My…” Thorin did not know what to say. “If…that title…is what you would prefer, I would not be opposed to it, of course—”

 

A loud roar of indignation erupted in the hall as the dwarves glared at Thorin.

 

“Mahal help you, Thorin, look at the lass,” Balin snapped.

 

Thorin looked at Bilbo in shock. “Lukhamuh turg,” he said weakly.

 

“Serves you right,” Bofur shook his head. Thorin could not have looked greener.

 

“I…I thought…you never said…why didn’t you inform us?” Thorin demanded.

 

“We knew,” Kili said.

 

“Figured it out,” Fili said.

 

“It didn’t matter either way,” Gloin shrugged. “Just like with dwarf women, no?”

 

“Yes,” Thorin nodded, and looked at Bilbo with new eyes. “I thought hobbits were different in this circumstance,” Thorin began with an aggrieved tone. “When I walked through the Shire, everybody was so small and hairless. I could not tell you apart. I’m sorry I misunderstood your people.”

 

“To be fair, I’m not exactly representative of the female hobbits,” Bilbo admitted. “Normally it would be easier to tell us apart from men.” She eyed him carefully. “Does it bother you that I am not a hobbit man?”

 

Thorin shook his head. “It does not matter to me, and hardly to us dwarves. We care not for gender more than we do for salads. But it was rude of me to assume something of you that you were not.”

 

Bilbo snorted. “I hope you like me more than a salad.”

 

Thorin smiled. “More than the gold that fills these halls.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I think I should clarify that the Bilbo I imagined in this fic is essentially a regular Bilbo, but female. I read a fic where a femBilbo would bind her breasts to keep them hidden and I didn't think this fic needed that, Bilbo wasn't hiding anything that wasn't there in the sense of having large breasts? And if you've seen or heard of OHSHC, the concept is similar. 
> 
> I have a feeling I did awful with my first take of a Hobbit fic, but you know what they say about practice making perfect.


End file.
